


In Search of Redemption

by bakura



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Post-Fall of Overwatch, gabriel reyes is a goth, jack morrison is a jerk, jesse mccree is an idiot, not romance but still deep relationship feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 08:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9169783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakura/pseuds/bakura
Summary: "I lost many by the hands of Overwatch too. Probably could have stopped it myself, or at least I tell myself that to make myself feel better.” said McCree as he paused for a moment, "Or maybe it’s to make me feel worse."Jesse McCree doesn't realize that the man his masked client wants dead is in fact himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually going to be a fluffy fic, but then the sad feels hit. Oops.

There were certain sounds of the night that were routine for Jesse McCree: the distant howl of a nightly predator, the low grumble of a distant truck, the hiss and thunder from a midnight storm. His private abode in the middle of nowhere was a relatively quiet escape from the chaos of his day job and cacophony of his past, though judging from the sound outside his house, it was going to be one of those nights when he’d be forced into overtime. 

 

The pounding shuffle of footsteps kept McCree on his toes, as he wrapped himself in his poncho and quickly threw on a pair of pants. He grabbed his revolver and placed it on the small table next to the front door in case of a _problematic transaction_ , as he quickly ran the fingers of his mechanical arm through his bedhead hair. How hard was it to send an email before showing up at his doorstep? He paid good money to have that suspicious woman with the nice nails set up an encrypted anonymous drop box. If this client could track down his address, they would have surely gotten his email and encryption key.

 

McCree opened the door and looked around. A figure stood before, cloaked in a leather and wearing a skull-like mask. McCree sighed. Showy amateurs always reach their breaking point before calling in professionals like him. Hopefully this punk would still have good money left after spending so much on that costume. Leather and grommets can really add up quickly, he remembered. His former commander used to customize a lot of his gear, and would always be pissed as hell when he misplaced a spike. All that gaudy embellishment, and Reyes had had the nerve to give him hell for his belt buckle.

 

“I take it you’re here to enquire about my services?” said McCree, “Best be a good job if you’re interrupting my beauty sleep.”

 

“THE DEATH OF ALL OVERWATCH,” snarled the masked man, “IS THE ULTIMATE GOAL I SEEK TO FULFILL,  _JESSE MCCREE_.”

 

Well that would certainly be a _mighty fine_ job, if he would have been willing to take it. The extent of his services as a bounty hunter occasionally turned deadly, but McCree still held on certain morals. And more importantly, his intact mortality.

 

“Now hold up there,” said McCree, “I’m a pretty flexible businessman, especially when the payment is high enough. But I know when the risk is too high for me to complete a job properly. I don’t touch no one from Overwatch or the Deadlock Rebels. At least personally, that is. But I do I have some exclusive contacts that would be willing to listen to your requirements. Come inside, and we can discuss this over coffee, and a nice referral fee for my courtesy, of course.”

 

McCree left the door ajar, as he headed to the kitchen to turn the kettle on. Normally he wouldn’t be so keen to extend his services at 2AM to some dramatic overlord who wouldn’t even be paying out a full job, but McCree found the goth act a bit endearing. And maybe, despite his repression, he found himself really a bit guilty after all.

 

Reyes stood alone awkwardly, as he dematerialized the shotguns that the retreating McCree didn’t even see aimed at the back of his head. After all of these years, Jesse was still a ditz. Still running that ridiculous cowboy act too, Reyes thought for a second, as he glimpsed at the spikes that adorned his gauntlets. At least he was a a free agent now. " _We were a government agency, and you wanted to run around with a vulgar acronym in a fucking plaque over your crotch."_  


McCree has his personal boundaries to not harm and Rebels or Overwatch agents, and even in his wrath of vengeance, Gabriel Reyes had his hard limit of never killing a _total_ idiot. The least he could do was fully explain to Jesse, who he was, and that he was actual here to shoot him in the face. _“You spent over a decade in Blackwatch, running around like the idiot. Then you just ran away."_  


 

He entered the small house, as McCree put down two steaming mugs on the small table in the middle of the dining room.

 

“I’m all out of milk,” said McCree, “But I take it you’re the kind of kid who takes their coffee black. Just going from the whole Lord of Darkness getup you got on.”

 

“I’m not a kid,” growled Reyes, “I’m older than you, _Jesse_.”

 

“Sorry there, sir,” pipped McCree as he sat down with a polite nod, “I just see a lot of the younger folks having the most anger towards Overwatch. I’ve talked down far too many orphans from their daydreams of vigilante justice. Not that I blame them.” 

 

Reyes glanced at the mug, wondering if it McCree was still watering it all down like he used to. In this form, he would never be able to find out.

 

McCree tried to take a look at his silent visitor, trying hard not to obviously peer at the ominous white visage. Reyes could see McCree curiously gawking. He remained silent as his former comrade continued to fill the silence in the room.

 

"I lost many by the hands of Overwatch too. Probably could have stopped it myself, or at least I tell myself that to make myself feel better.” said McCree as he paused for a moment, "Or maybe it’s to make me feel worse. Who did they take from you?”

 

“Myself,” said Reyes, “Under the mask, I— I was—“

 

McCree gave the stranger a sad smile as wiggled the metallic tips of his prosthetic hand, “I understand. But you’re still around, and able to fight for your justice. Now, I told you I know some folks who have taken Overwatch agents out before, but I’m going to need to ask you a few more things about the agent in question. I won’t ask for the specific name, if you’re worried about privacy. Just in what department they worked, what position, if you know.”

 

“What does that mean to you?” asked Reyes, “Do you want the entire backstory of how _he_ betrayed me?”

 

“I’m a bounty hunter, not a therapist,” said McCree, “But I don’t want to touch certain units, even indirectly.”

 

Reyes cocked his head in curiosity.

 

“And why is that?”

 

McCree took a long sip of coffee.

 

 "I still believe there are a few good agents who didn’t fall to the corruption.”

 

“You really think that, Jesse?” asked Reyes with a chuckle, “After what they allowed to the world. After what they allowed to happen to _me_? Tell me, who do you think deserves to be spared.”

 

“Blackwatch.” said McCree, promptly, “No need for me to be epitome of perfect judgement in the black market. I’ll protect who I damn well please.“

 

Reyes laughter crescendoed, “After what you did to them, you still want to protect them, Jesse?”

 

McCree sighed as he shook his head, “I payed that hacker lady good money to get those photos from the UN meeting off of the internet. But I guess I can’t completely hide who I am.”

 

“You looked almost _classy_ in those photos, Jesse,” snarked Reyes, “But you refused to completely shave.”

 

“At least I didn’t look like Gabriel Reyes,” said McCree with a sad laugh, “You never would have guessed it from the photos you saw in the news, but he was the biggest goth out there. If Jack Morrison wasn’t such an obnoxious prick, Gabe probably would have dressed up Blackwatch even worse than you.”

 

“Worse than me?” mocked Reyes.

 

“Uhh— No offense there, sir,” said McCree, “It’s not like I have anything against goths. In fact, you ridiculous clothes are the only reason I’m helping you. It... it reminds me of him.”

 

“He’s one of the ones you miss, isn’t he, Jesse?” asked Reyes.

 

“Yeah, it’s kind of obvious, ain’t it?” said McCree, taking a solemn sip from his mug, “They killed Gabe."

 

“And you thought you could stop it?” asked Reyes, “And you didn’t?”

 

“I... ran away,” said McCree, “I was scared, and I didn’t believe that the confrontation would work. But I didn’t expect that they would kill him.”

 

“You left him, Jesse,” mocked Reyes, “You left your friend to _die_.”

 

“He wasn’t just a friend,” yelled McCree, slamming his mechanical arm down on the table, “He was a mentor. He was my _savior_. He fucking saved me from the Rebels, and Jack Morrison, and he even tried to save me from my conceited self. And I fucking ran away right when shit started to hit the fan.”

 

Tears streamed down McCree’s face as he stared at the masked figure, “I don’t know even know what I would have done if I had stayed. He didn’t listen to me. After all that I thought we had together, he just expected me to follow him without giving a shit about what I had to say. And maybe I should have. Maybe he would have been satisfied to know I would have trusted his orders to march into a meeting with an egomaniac who wanted Blackwatch gone. Maybe at the last minute, he would listen to me telling him I didn’t have a good feeling, and we all would have just turned around and left the building. Or maybe he wouldn’t have died without our last conversation ending with him telling me to go fuck myself.”

 

Reaper’s mask stared blankly at McCree. His mind was equally void as his former partner tried to muffle his crying.

 

“I’m sorry, sir,” said McCree, as he mopped away his tears with his poncho, “A bit unprofessional of me. As a bounty hunter, now less! But I’m sure you can understand how war fucks you over. I can’t kill Morrison a second time to avenge Gabe, nor can I avenge you personally, but I’ll do my best to find someone who can help. I won’t even charge you for the connection like I told you earlier.”

 

Reaper remained in silence, as McCree forced a smile.

 

“I’ve changed my mind, Jesse,” he said, dematerializing into his shadowy wraith from, “I’ve decided against the taking out target I planned. Thank you for your services this evening. That will be all.”

 

Alone in his house, Jesse McCree lit a cigar as he allowed himself to continue to cry.

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I wanted to finish the fic with them properly reconciling, I believe their relationship is too complex for a simple happy ending. I hope Blizzard does their backstory justice in the lore.
> 
> On a lighter note, McCree should have really made Reyes pay, because Sombra is totally hustling his bank account dry with her tech support. The poor man can't even keep milk in his fridge.


End file.
